Nothing Says "I Love You" Like a Blender

Learning Things

You learn things when you've racked up nearly thirty years on the old marriage-o-meter. You learn what is and isn't an appropriate wife gift. It took my husband, aka, "Snuggle Bunny," awhile to figure this out.

It was Valentine's Day. Snuggles brought home an exquisitely wrapped box. Red hearts danced a polka against a silvery background of sweetly confetti-ed cupids. Satin ribbons, cascading over the box like a foaming pink waterfall, cradled a lace bow the size of a Buick. My heart skipped a beat. Then two.

I poised like a cat stalking a canary and tore into the gift wrap. I unearthed an Imperial Pulse-A-Matic Osterizer blender. I didn't know whether to burst into tears or just burst.

"Look, its got an unconditional five-year warranty," Snuggles crowed, grabbing the mechanical monstrosity like a kid in a candy store. "And see here? You can cream, crush, grind, stir, puree, whip, mix, blend, frappe and liquefy. All at the touch of a button!" He demonstrated. "Is this thing great or what?"

"I'm gonna frappe you" I grated.

His face fell. "Is it the wrong brand?"

Silence.

"Don't you like it? I thought you needed a blender." The Ice Age returneth. Conceding defeat, Snuggle Bunny put down the blender beast, took my hand and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I snapped, jerking my hand back.

Pressing his luck, Snuggles continued, "Well, something's wrong. What is it?"